The Seven Deadly Sins
by Twinkeypop21
Summary: Roy had temptations. Lots of temptations. And Riza Hawkeye was the biggest. Seven one shots, each topic being about each deadly sin. This will be rated T until further chapters(Lust, obviously). Thanks for giving me a try!
1. Greed

Just a quick drabble. I will most likely add more random one-shots of their relationship, but for now, here's this one!

These characters are not mine.

Roy watched the blonde woman carefully. Her eyebrows were knit with determination, and her mouth turned in a frown on the verge of a smile. He didn't want to bother her, in reality the young man wanted to continue to sit and watch her; he was quite sure he could watch her forever, but that wasn't the problem at this moment. At this point in time, Riza's determination was not towards any type of work, which was almost unnatural to see. She was thoroughly scrubbing the counters of his city apartment, chipping off old food and other monstrosities Roy hadn't ever bothered to clean off.

He was hardly here he realized, looking around. The shelves were covered in a layer of dust that had settled in far earlier than he had. The kitchen had alcohol stains on the floor, something Roy was quite embarrassed about, and dishes piled up in the sink. He was ashamed by the state his living space was in, but seeing her clean up made him remember when they were younger. When he was a houseguest and apprentice in her home. He smiled softly to himself.

"Miss Hawkeye," her head shot up, melancholy thick in her eyes, "there's no need for you to clean up. I'll do it later." Riza looked down at the rag in her hand, batting her eyes in an attempt to calm herself from hearing such an old term. Moreover, a term of endearment at that. It was what her Colonel used when her father was around…he used it when he had deviated against the master's orders, slipping into her room when she had had nightmares. _Mr. Mustang _she thought to call out, but it was stuck in her throat, and she could find nothing else to do but continue to scrub.

Pursing his lips, he cleared the space between them in less than three strides, and plucked the washcloth from her soft pink hands. Roy felt his heart flutter with the small contact of flesh, but he pulled away, stepping back to throw the cloth into the sink.

"Shall I make dinner, sir?" She wouldn't meet his eyes, and Roy wondered how this had happened. When had they started their ritual of eating together every Friday? He revisited the stains on the floor with his eyes, unsure of what to say.

"No, Lieutenant, not tonight," her questioning glance made him continue, "I'm not hungry." He turned away, his greatcoat itching his body, and his mind screaming at him to meet her eyes, to see the disappointment lingering behind those carmine orbs. But he wouldn't in fear of him being the only one disappointed that dinner was canceled. Roy shrugged off the heavy blue coat, hanging it tiredly on a hook next to the front door. As he unlaced his shiny army boots, he could imagine Riza, standing in his kitchen, plucking idly at her nail and wondering what to do next.

"You may leave." Roy said coolly while unbuttoning the suffocating white dress shirt. He evaded into his room, pressing a hand against the hard wood regretfully. Why had he left her out there? Why did he have to act like such a damn bastard, so cold and stiff? He almost smiled, repeating something the Fullmetal brat had yelled at him. Leaning his forehead against the door, Roy listened to the slow shuffling feet that were coming nearer and nearer. A shadow cast from under the door where two black boots obscured the light coming in. _She's leaving_ he thought, but they didn't bulge.

"…" There was silence, but Roy could hear her breathing, "…Mr.…Mr. Mustang." She whispered, and Roy knew he wasn't supposed to hear her. Clasping a hand over his mouth, he froze, going ridged. Memories long since thought about were flooding his mind.

_ Good evening Mr. Mustang. Goodnight, Mr. Mustang. Don't leave me Mr. Mustang, I'm scared. I had a dream about Father, Mr. Mustang. You're a good man – _"Roy," she said a bit louder. He wanted so badly to rip open the door, to tell her how he loved her so. How he had loved even since he laid eyes on her. But he couldn't move, couldn't ruin what they had. They were too…complicated.

_Roy! Come play outside! Roy, did you like the supper I made? Have you any laundry, Roy? Don't worry, Roy…you're not leaving me,_ _I am never alone as you are a part of m_e. Roy remembered that line so clearly, as if that day was everyday. They were children, and yet he had loved her then, he had felt this suffocating. He couldn't get enough air when she was around. Love was horrifying, Roy realized. It was being too deep in a well-dug trench as bombs exploded around him, each second possibly being his last. This feeling had for Riza was blinding and terrifying like being in the rain when he needed fire, or failing to wake in the morning. He was so unsure how to act around her, unsure of what to say or what might accidentally escape his lips as his heart did flip-flops in his stomach; Riza exhaled.

She stepped away from the door, and Roy was in shock at how just an exhale could melt him. Feeling his heart flare up and his stomach clench he moved quietly to his bed, throwing himself down onto the firm mattress. _No,_ he decided, _love was like constantly having a heart attack._


	2. Envy

**Envy**

_"Get out of here, boy!" Berthold Hawkeye hissed at Roy and his teeth clicked in astonishment as his master's hand connected with his face. He was twelve tonight, his birthday unnoticed by his master and Riza. It was on this night that Riza had had a nightmare. One that woke him in a frenzy, screaming and moaning waking him from his slumber. It was on this night, the night he waited for his master to come trudging down the hall like usual, that Roy acted on his own. She was terrified when he entered her room, her little figure black against the insufficient light traveling through the heavily curtained window.  
"Riza," Roy had whispered from her doorway, afraid to step any further into a forbidden area of the house. She sniffled a little, her screams had awoken her and now there was an eerie silence that covered the house. He stepped forward, flinching when the floorboards creaked, shouting under his feet. She made a small noise of protest, the nine-year-old familiar with her father's rules. Roy stopped and immediately retraced his steps to the door. _

_ "Sorry," he said lowly, looking to the ground and then at her. He wasn't child anymore, he couldn't treat her anyway he would like. But he swore he saw her shake her head._

_ "I'm scared, Ro- Mr. Mustang," She corrected herself mid-sentence, remembering that her father had forbidden them from calling each other by their first names. Roy hesitated, this time moving slowly over the creaky floorboard, his bare feet making no noise now._

_ "It's okay. It was just a dream." He had made it to the edge of her bed, gripping the thin blue blanket that was tangled around Riza's thin legs. He reached out, straightening them out, hoping that she wouldn't feel as suffocated. Then again, Roy noticed she had relaxed the moment he entered her room…No, her wouldn't think about that. She was quiet, and Roy could feel her eyes on him as he smoothed out the rough material. He put a hand against her shoulder, willing her to lie back down, and she obliged._

_ He would have left, he told himself, if she hadn't grabbed his wrist. He would have stayed until she fell asleep, then he would have fled back to his room under the stairs. But she pulled him onto her plush bed, situating the covers over his developing body. Roy blinked._

_ "Please don't leave me…Roy" She whispered his name, and he snuggled down into her pillow, his faces inches from hers, but they were just children. They couldn't feel the complicated and anxious feeling Roy thought was going through him. The butterflies, they were eating away at his stomach. Through the moonlight, he caught the twinkling of Riza's amber-red eyes, and he heard her whisper to him. Unsure of what she said, he did what he remembered his mother had done before she disappeared. He ran his fingers over Riza's soft, smooth arm, watching as she relaxed. She interlaced their fingers, finding solace in his presence; she was asleep quicker than he could blink and before he knew it, his fingers stopped working, his eyelids drooping inevitably. All was peaceful. That was when it happened. _

_ "Move, Boy!" And Roy wondered if Mr. Hawkeye even knew his name. But he jumped up, aware that his hand was still intertwined with his teacher's daughter's fingers. It felt wrong, the way he had to leave Riza, alone, and now crying in the darkness. His master had a firm hold on the back of his onyx hair, shoving the boy into the next room. Roy stumbled more than once, but he overlooked the scrapped knees he had acquired. Those were not the worst of his worries. Mr. Hawkeye had practically thrown him down the stairs, catching him by his shirt collar before shoving him forcefully again. _

_ They had made it to Roy's room and Hawkeye had told him to strip down to his under layers, drawing his belt at the same time, and now he was face down on his bed, dread overcoming him. There was a flash of blue light that made Roy sure, his teacher had used alchemy to seal the door closed. And he braced himself, feeling the harsh leather upon his back before hearing it. He wouldn't cry out, for Riza's sake he wouldn't. But it was harder said than done. For some reason Mr. Hawkeye was angrier tonight, and his wrath was the result of Roy's bruised, cut, and sore legs and back. Roy felt as though he was drowning in his own tears that soaked his mattress, but still he did not cry out except for the smothered groan of pain._

_ Finally, it was over. Hawkeye was panting, his belt limp, and Roy looked up at him from his place on the bed, tears flowing down his face leaving streaks on his miserable visage; Mr. Hawkeye had finally calmed down enough to see what he had done. Regret colored his turquoise eye and he moved to place a soft touch against the boy's shoulder. Roy jumped, his eyes slamming shut, and this time he sobbed aloud. What had he done wrong? The adult shrank back, before covering the boy with a thin sheet and ruffling his mop of hair. When Roy opened his eyes he was alone again, his door still sealed with alchemy…his teacher had departed. _

Roy inhaled deeply, letting his eyelids stay closed, feeling heavy on his eyes. He was confused. He knew he had kicked up old memories with his subordinate's old nickname, but why this memory. His third year in the Hawkeye house was the worst year of his life. He had experienced growing pains mixed with the hurt of beatings and abuse, combined. It was also the year his teacher's health declined, going from forgetful to down-right mental. His research was not going well in those years. Roy shivered. _His research._ Heaving himself out of his oversized bed, he realized someone had taken off his boots, and his greatcoat was hanging on a rack over Roy's large mahogany dresser that held only a handful of things. Most of which were never used.

He turned, unsure what to do with himself. Should he make his bed? The sheets were wrinkled on one side, and the sight almost saddened him; he was alone. He decided against it. At least the un-tucked and unkempt sheets made this house look more lived in. Sighing, the flame alchemist rubbed the sleep from his eyes, inhaling deeply once more. It smelled good. Wait. It smelled good. Before evading his room he slipped on an old grey t-shirt. Might as well be comfortable. Opening the door, a blend of smells hit him, and his eyes were greeted with his Lieutenant, head bent over the stove, her back towards him. She had made stir-fry. He knew by the smell; he had taught her to make it back when they were children. Granted, she had long surpassed him in the art of cooking, but it was almost an honor to see her using his recipes.

He felt his face warm a little; Riza had shed her greatcoat as well, and the black turtleneck she wore underneath clung to her body, revealing a thin waist and small breasts. Roy shifted his gaze, but the temptation came back to him, and he felt himself now staring at the back of her neck, a few stray pieces of her hay-yellow hair had escaped from her tight up-do. But Roy thought it suited her. He liked it when she did not look so formal; it reminded him of the old Riza. The Riza before the war. Roy shifted nervously on his feet before meandering to the small table. Riza turned her head slightly, her abnormal hearing picking up on even the slightest creak.

"I see you're awake," she mumbled, the role of Lieutenant and Colonel forgotten for a moment.

"I see you stole my recipe again." He let himself slip past her, opening the cabinet to the left of her, confident he would find bowls. Riza scoffed at his comment, but stayed silent. Roy continued to look for the bowls, becoming distressed when he could not locate them.

"Where are the damn things!" He exclaimed, smacking his hands down against his thighs. Riza had shifted her eyes to him, and he met them, questioning.

"Three cabinets down. You're looking for dishes like you're in my house." She said simply, and he looked to the cabinet she pointed out. Was he really that acquainted with her home? He looked away, retrieving two bowls, handing them to Riza, feeling for the second time, a flutter in stomach as her skin got closer to his. They didn't have many excuses to touch, and Roy would never admit that his heart sped up like a teenage girl. He almost laughed aloud with that though. _Roy Mustang comparing himself to a teenage girl._ He wanted to roll his eyes at himself, but thought better to.

"Shall we eat?" Riza looked up at him, holding two steaming bowls of food. He nodded, and she made her way to the table. Roy struggled to find silverware, but eventually found two forks with Riza's help. Slightly ashamed, he salvaged the only thing he knew to find, wine. Riza looked almost surprised when he sat with her, filling a quarter of her glass with the harsh red substance. She stared at him for a while, and Roy was unsure of what to do, so he took a swig out of his own glass, happy with the taste.

Riza watched him; his head was tipped back, his eyes closed. He was handsome. She shook her head. _Not now heart._ She felt her face flush with the though of her Colonel. _He's your boss,_ her mind nagged.

"Get yourself together." She muttered to herself as she filled her fork with the warm meal.

"Hm?" Roy looked at her, following her lead. It's not like they would pray, nor would they say cheers. No, Riza thought, that wasn't who they were. God was too far out of their lives; God would not help them.

"It's nothing." She continued on, listening to the silence, meeting Roy's gaze only once before letting the forkful of rice melt in her mouth. It made her think of being a child…There was something about tonight, something different, something that made her knees wobbly and her headache splitting.

"Oh," Roy's voice dropped, and the silence continued. It wasn't an awkward silence, no, nothing between her and Roy would be awkward, they had been together far too long to have the commodity of unease. She almost basked in feeling his presence. He was like her own personal sun, reserved for her only.

"Why did you stay?" His voice was low, and when Riza looked up at him, she couldn't read what was burning in his eyes. The comfort was shattered and she didn't quite know how to answer him adequately. _Because I had to. Because there was something wrong beneath your eyes, something that worried me. Because I was disappointed. Because I lov-_ She stopped herself from even think about it.

"Because it's Friday," she said simply, "and you were being melodramatic." Riza cursed herself for letting the last line slip. But Roy gave a hearty laugh, feeling the sarcasm that oozed through her statement. His smile made her heart beat faster, and she couldn't help but give a small smile.

"Didn't have a hot date…Lieutenant." She felt her smile drop. There was seriousness behind Roy's smile, behind his voice. Frowning, she looked at her wine glass, studying the small mark around the rim; a mark she realized was of lipstick. And Riza didn't wear lipstick. The hurt hit her before she could stop it, before she could filter out her own feelings.

"No, sir." She pushed her chair back, her eyes still fixed on the lip mark. Biting her lip, she grabbed the glass and her half-eaten dinner. The taste in her mouth was turning bitter.

"But you probably do." She let the dishes clatter into the sink much louder than was necessary.

"Lieutenant?" He was out of his chair; making his way to her, but Riza couldn't breath. She was suffocating, swallowing the anger she felt. _Calm down._ Roy was behind her, and she took back what she had said. Roy Mustang was not a sun. He was not warm and he was not reserved for her. She was his companion. His _subordinate_. No, she thought to herself, Roy Mustang was cold. The cold winter of Briggs, and as harsh as the nipping wind.

"Is something wrong?" She frowned, turning now to face him.

"It's no concern of yours." She pushed off the counter, escaping his gaze and slipping on her blue coat, knowing she should not be jealous. She should not care about the other women that had probably sat exactly were she had.

"_Cold, he's cold." She breaks him with those words. Of course they are his concern. She is his. He loves her. But no. She is not _his_. But she's escaping, leaving him unable to move unable to shout or cry or catch her. He's just as useless as he's accused of being. He wonders if she realizes that she's spoken aloud because she doesn't seem to register her own voice. Then he's shattered, "it's no concern of yours." And yes, he assumes, it really isn't his concern. Because he is nothing to her. But he wants her to be his concern. He needs her to be his concern. _

"Riza," his voice threatens to break more than it has. Maybe she hesitated, but turning he saw he was too late. She was gone long before he uttered the choked syllable. Roy Mustang felt his knees wobble, his heart was slowly being torn from his chest. And his precious hawk was gone.


	3. Gluttony

**Gluttony**

"Well time has a way of throwing it all in your face  
The past, she is haunted, the future is laced  
Heartbreak, ya know, drives a big black car  
Swear I was in the back seat, just minding my own."

-Big Black Car, Gregory Alan Isakov

He recalled that he had been there too long, possibly had one too many drinks. His head is murky, his heart impaired. The detached feeling he felt made it all the more easier to ask for another drink without really realizing he had asked for one. But he was aware of the glass; it clashed into his teeth, spilling a bit of the alcoholic drink onto his uniform, but yet he had enough mind to drink the hard liquor in one gulp. He wanted the drunkenness. He was welcoming it.

_The flames surrounded him. The faces of women and children and men looked to him, terrified. But they were gone before anything could be said. They were gone with the snap of fingers. Screams met his ears, and the smell of burning flesh greeted his nose. He was suffocating, his own body being engulfed in flame. No, that wasn't it. He was fine, his flesh still white and whole. And he saw her in front of him, her milky smooth skin violated by the thick burgundy lines that smother her entire back. She is sullied; her eyes never looked quite the same._

_ "__Please, Roy." He heard her soft pleading, and her hands worked nervously in front of her. Picking at the buttons of her sea blue button-down; Roy shivered. She pushed her long hair over one shoulder, her nude back exposed. God, she was beautiful. He reached forward, his hand warm on her cool skin and she shuttered as he traced the pattern down to her lower back._

_ "__I- I can't," Roy pulled away, wanting so badly to just hold her in his arms, tell her that it wasn't that bad._

_ "__You have to." She turned, the curve of her breast showing under the muscled forearms covering her front. He squeezed his eyes closed. This felt so wrong. _

_ "__Why!? Why do you want to this to yourself? Why do you want to do this to me?" He shouted, pressing his palms to his temples. Riza exhaled, the silence bound them for a moment, but her voice was soft, calm, when she replied._

_ "__I can't live with-"_

_ "__But-" Roy attempted frantically,_

_ "__I can't live with being nothing but a scrap of notes! I don't want to be a weapon! I want it gone. _Please,_ Roy." Her voice broke him. Her eyes a mix of cerise and carmine, they were gorgeous. And he was about to ruin those eyes. Ruin the underlying innocence that had no idea what pain this would be. But he didn't doubt her strength. No, he didn't doubt her strength for a minute. He nodded and she picked up her gun holster, folding it over twice and inserting the leather into her delicate mouth so she wouldn't cry out._

_All in a snap of his fingers. The leather had fallen from her bite, and the moans of pain were nothing he had remembered with the Ishvalin people. She was _alive_. He watched the flames dance up her shoulder, turning the skin a strange pink color before skin was falling off in chunks of blackened bile. He couldn't look, but his eyes were glued to her, watching as her muscles rippled in pain and her body fell slack as the fire died away. _

_ "__Riza," his voice was less than a squeak, it was strangled, and it was almost unbearable to speak. He could smell her, not the usual floral scent her skin waived; it was her burning flesh, it was a putrid smell, one he was sure he would never forget._

_ "__Doctor…go get a doctor," she sobbed. He stumbled on legs like jelly shouting for help. And somehow he was leading a man to her tent, trying desperately to hold himself up, but he was falling and falling and falling- "Sir?"_

_ "__Sir are you awake?" _And Roy could have sworn he was awake the whole time, but he was going in and out of consciousness.

"A doctor…" He mumbled, "I need a doctor…" he felt his face smashed on the wooden bar, but he saw Riza's burning flesh. Hands touched him, pulling him backwards and his head lolled away from his previous rest.

"Are you hurt?" This voice was familiar…Maybe it was Riza. Cracking his eyes open, Roy could see nothing, his vision was shaky and the person touching him had hair much like his lieutenant, no, it was much too long to be Riza's.

"Doctor…." He tried to move, but his arms felt disconnected from his body. Watching himself stumble off the stool, he took the Riza look alike by the shoulders.

"I need to get Riza to a doctor." He said before falling backwards a bit, bringing the blonde with him.

"I hurt her-" His words were slurred, the vowels dragged out, and Riza sighed in annoyance. He was having the nightmares again.

"She'll be fine, Colonel." She said as her arm grasped around his waist, and she dragged his arm over her shoulder, letting his full weight rest on her.

"Mhhm thas goo-" He was nodding off again. Riza doubted she could carry him all the way back to his home. Debating, she shoved her superior into the backseat of the car, not quite as gently as she could, but she got the job done. She let out another unhappy sigh. Roy Mustang would be coming home with her.


	4. Pride

**Pride**

"That women she's got eyes that shine  
Like a pair of stolen polished dimes  
She asked to dance I said it's fine  
I'll see you in the morning time."

-I and Love and You, The Avett Brothers

The military was a parade of ignorant people, curtained by exquisite dances and parties and social event that made it look like it was accomplishing things. But these were just for fun, to make them feel like what they were doing was good. Roy scoffed at the overplay of extravagant things. King Bradley had gotten things like Xingese dancers and food imported from the reaches of Ishval. It was ridiculous. He almost felt ridiculous in a black tuxedo, his black hair slicked back with heavy gel. Havoc was dancing with his newest girlfriend, and his other subordinates were teasing him from the sidelines, each one of them acting out, pretending they weren't the wallflowers of the party.

Subconsciously he looked around for Riza, stopping every so often on a woman with the same hair color as hers. He thought he had spotted her with a group of other women, but with a harder look, he saw a backless dress. No, Riza would never wear something of the sort. He smirked; she also was not very _chummy_ with the other women of the military. Except for Rebecca, Riza was not good at conversing with other women. Gossiping was never her forte. He looked once more, his eyes skimming the room for the only constant thing in his world.

_ She looked the best in red or midnight blue. Red had a way of popping both her eyes and hair, but blue made her skin shine. _He pulled the silver object out of his pocket, dangling the pocket watch before him. Flicking it open he noted the time; he had been standing here for almost thirty minutes and Riza was not one to be late. He tapped on the glass of his clock wondering if the time could be wrong.

"I heard the womanizer can't catch himself a dance," Roy rolled his eyes, but the smile formed on his face anyways. Turning he gripped his best friend's arm.

"Shut up, Hughes." They both smiled and Hughes held a glass of champagne out to him. Roy lifted his hands, shaking his head. Hughes' eyebrows shot up in disbelief.

"Staying sober tonight?" Roy exhaled. The drink was appetizing, but he couldn't.

"It's an important night," this was Roy's first lie of the night. He couldn't tell his best friend that he was trying to stay sober for at least one night. Couldn't tell him that in the time he'd been gone, he had picked up a nasty problem. Roy wasn't an alcoholic, no, it wasn't that severe, but lately it was getting hard to deny a drink. Hughes nodded, thinking he understood, but he didn't. No one would understand. The two made idle chatter, Roy uncomfortable with going any further than skimming the surface; it had been too long that the two men had talked and a gap had formed. In fact, Roy thought, the gap had developed the day Hughes had gotten married. _Maybe, _he thought, _it's because of this damnable pride. _ And Roy knew it was the truth. It was his hurt ego that wouldn't let him speak; his friend had found something better than him. But he shook it off, checking the time again. It had been an hour since the party had started, and still he hadn't seen Riza. Hughes saw his fidgeting and wandering eyes. He gave a small smile, knowing as well as Mustang that they're friendship was not what it had been.

"She's by the food table." Roy's head snapped back to his friend, embarrassed that his friend had read him so easily.

"Who? I'm not look for anyone." It was his second lie tonight, he counted. He was trying to play it off coolly. His exterior personality contradicting the person he was inside. Hughes laughed.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye. Who else would you be looking for?" He said before whipping out a piece of paper from his breast pocket.

"IF by any chance you weren't looking for her… Look at my darling Elysia!" He squealed with joy, and Roy knew this was his queue to go to her. He gave his friend a thankful smile before beginning his journey to the other side of the large ballroom. He found her, eying the food on the table, occasionally picking at the finger food by the drinks. She was wearing a silken midnight blue gown. The back cut at her armpits, the rest of her back was covered by an equally dark blue sheer that hid her tattoo, although a spot could be seen of the pink scar he had created. No one who was looking would notice. Only someone who knew it was there could pinpoint it. A group of women stood between him and his lieutenant each one batted an eyelash at him, trying to get his hand to dance. He gently declined, saying he was hungry, and the once charismatic women turned bitter and slightly disappointed. He sighed inwardly, picking up a broken rice cracker from the tray.

"Lieutenant, you really have a way with ma king friends with _food_." She nodded, obviously knowing he was staring at her for a while before he spoke. Turning away from the table, clearly satisfied with herself, she moved to his side. He relaxed into her presence, the feeling of her beside him made him feel less alone. His gloved hand knocked against the back of her own hand, and he waited for her to acknowledge his touch. She looked up at him from the corner of her eye, following his gaze to the dance floor.

"Shall we?" He held out his hand for her and she hesitated. This wasn't professional. Roy knew this, but he wanted to feel her warmth, he wanted to hold her in his arms. And this was his best excuse. But she wouldn't deny him, he knew she wouldn't…He secretly hoped she wouldn't be able to resist. She took his hand and he held tight, keeping her dainty fingers between his until the previous dance had ended and the audience clapped. She was blushing, he saw it on her when he pulled her out to the pale wooden dance floor.

"I'm warning you, I don't know how to dance…" she stared into his bottomless eyes, wondering if he had remembered that, in actuality, she could dance fairly well. He smirked.

"I know you, remember?" She flushed an even deeper pink, looking at her feet before Roy hooked a finger under her chin.

"Confidence." And he knew she didn't need reminding. Her head would have automatically traveled up, keeping her neck elongated. Her jaw was pushed up with defiance, and it didn't matter when he caught her; she never slouched, it was like her body was automatically stiffened by years of hardship and pain, and Roy respected her for it. He respected her strength. It was the same strength that pushed him to be the best.

The music started and their feet moved automatically to the waltz. Roy however, had no straight lines in his arms and back. He held her close, deviating from the expected rigid lean he was supposed to assume. Riza let him take her waist, pulling her as close to him as humanly possible. All formality was lost between the two, and Roy though maybe it was because he had been with her for longer than he had been alive without her. Her head was almost against his shoulder as he twirled her around. He felt weightless with her, as if their coworkers did not surround them and they were the only people. The dance was over too quick, and Roy had difficulty letting go of the delicate woman, but he had to.

"I need some fresh air." Riza fidgeted, looking up at him, and Roy lied for the third time that night.

"Me too."


	5. Wrath

WOW GUYS. Um, so I feel pretty lousy that this one is so short... I mean I should probably tell you some sort of thing like: I was meaning to write something longer and awesomer...but this time, I really had no ideas. None! Geez, I'm a horrible person :P

Haha but anyways...Lust will be much much better, and definitely longer and will be uploaded by tomorrow(not promising) because it's already half written. Be warned, it is M rated, however it's not as"dirty" as it could be -evil smirk-

Welp, enjoy this short and pathetic piece...hopefully you guys'll(wow is that even a word?) like it better than I do!

Also, special thanks to Violet Abilene for the support and ideas!

**Wrath**

"Damn it!"His fists slammed against the rich mahogany desk, the once fresh coffee on the corner spilling its insides on some stray papers delivered that morning. This office had been his for God knows how long. This office had been filled with bumbling men, complaining about the workload and accusing their Colonel of being lazy. _They _had been his for God knows how long. _Falman, Breda, Fury, Havoc._ Although, he would admit, Havoc wasn't quite his soldier anymore. No, he had lost that title months ago.

Hawkeye. She was a different story, _he_ had been _hers_ for God knows how long, and now without the help of anyone, not even Hughes, Roy didn't have the slightest clue where to go from there. He flung the contents of the desk over the side, raking a hand through his hair. Bradley had taken everything from him. Had taken even his last _thread_ of hope. She was by the enemies side, her life constantly in danger, and Roy's brain couldn't comprehend- wouldn't comprehend- what that could mean for him if she were to die. His hands were shoulder length apart, pressing his whole weight against the tabletop as he tried to breath. _In. Out. In. Out-_ but it wasn't working. His head was light, his breath heavy. This was wrong. All wrong.

"_Colonel_," He could remember the way she would clear her throat before she spoke, and he almost shuddered thinking he wouldn't hear it ever again.

"_The paperwork, Sir."_ She would breathe before she threatened him coolly, her hand traveling to her belt. Roy collapsed into his large black chair, leaning back before closing his eyes. Never again would he feel her warmth beside him, or the feel of her breath upon his ear. This was personal. Taking Riza from him was an act of pure and unscathed hate he knew the Fuhrer had for him. Pushing himself up with new determination, Roy decided now was the time to strike. He could feel his blood boiling, heated with anger. He had to try for his men; for Riza.


	6. Lust

Guyssssss. One sin left! Excitement is running through me, but at the same time I'm almost a little sad...BUT fear not! After the Seven Deadly Sins there will be a new Royai story...so yeah. Check it out when it happens! Hope you enjoy this, by the way it is M-RATED. So all you little children shade your eyes.

**Lust**

They had never really gotten past the door. Roy would always stay on step below the landing, rocking on the balls of his feet, Riza unlocking the door. He was there to walk her home, to make sure she got home safe. Only on Fridays was he allowed to enter her home at night. It was a Saturday he made it past the door. Their feverish glances and occasional unprofessional touches had finally gotten into his head. He had let out his demons, his eyes almost losing. That's when he said it. It was his fault, she kept getting hurt because of him. That she was taken from him by Bradley, and they were both stuck. Neither one knew what to say. A loud smack echoed. It was the only thing Riza knew. She had hit him harder than planned, but it was painful to see the hurt in him, to see that he blamed himself for any injury she had ever acquired. He was shocked for a second before catching Riza's hand in his own. He pulled her into him, only familiar with the feeling of folding into him when she was a child. Curling her arms into his chest, she let him touch her, pressing against her lower back.

He smelled like ash and flesh and whiskey. She thought she hated the smell of him, but it somehow drew her in. Always. It was then that he bent, pressing his lips against her temple. It was unknown boundaries.

_"What are we going to do?" _He had whispered. He was depending on her certainty, on her strength that had always pushed him to do the right things-

_"I don't know…What can we do?"_ She had nuzzled her nose against his throat, bringing her arms around his neck. Her eyes were closed, her face not particularly sad, but the closest he'd seen her to happy in a long time. He bent, pressing a kiss onto her lips. It was soft and gentle, and everything she didn't know him to be. He took her face in his hands, unclipping her hair so he could run his fingers through the thin strands. And he kissed her again, pressing her against the hard wood of the door, jabbing small splinters into her back. But she didn't care. The feeling of Roy's lips against her own made her body ache with a longing she had never felt with any other man-not that she had ever really loved any other man-but Roy had stolen her, completely.

His breaths were heavy ghosts upon her skin, leaving a hotness that caused her own to become weighted with each kiss he laid. It was as though her breath stuck within her body, and each breath taken was one less than she needed. And yet, there was still urgency for privacy, it was just a dismal nagging in Riza's mind that they needed to get out of plain sight. That even though she was being shielded by Roy's body-which was ever more distracting-she knew they needed to stop. She knew this was against regulation. She knew but she wouldn't stop.

Grabbing for the cold door handle, she twisted it, feeling the waft of air inside on her fingertips. Hooking her fingers in his lapels, they stumbled backwards, his foot wrapping around the door, closing it. She could feel her body heating up, her heartbeat speeding as she felt his lips on her jaw, traveling down to her neck, before he moved back up, holding her face steady with his hands.

_"I-"_But Roy cut her off, pressing hard, and pushing her against the door again. Riza, caught up in his passion, pushed his greatcoat back over his shoulders, tearing the fabric away from his chest, taking no care of the carefully placed golden buttons. She may have torn off one or two, but she didn't care. She wanted him; he wanted her.

Roy picked her up as her legs wrapped around his waist. The friction caused him to groan into her mouth. Their kisses were becoming sloppy, both were distracted by the other's feverish touches that were turning into lingering caresses. Roy's hands were ice against her skin as he pulled away her coat, pushing the black turtleneck up to her collarbone, not wanting to break away from her lips.

_"Mphf," _Roy groaned again, unfastening Riza's pants with one hand, the other held her against him. She broke away, pulling the useless shirt off, throwing it in a pile with Roy's greatcoat. And before she knew it they were in a heap on her bed, Roy's shirt removed, his belt dangling from its loops.

_"Are we really doing this?"_Riza was pressed into the mattress, her hay-blonde hair splayed behind her. Her fingers inched slowly from his solid chest, softly running along the muscle until she traced his collarbone and moved to touch his hair. She had never looked at Roy this way. He was no longer just attractive, but handsome in the most terrifying way. Not at all how she had seen him before.

_ He had the look of a foreigner. Not quite like the round eyed, fair-haired people of Amestris. His almond eyes were more dramatic against his pale skin, the black of his hair looking much darker than it would have. And it seemed almost impossible to pick out his pupils from his irises. Those blackened eyes were like pits, black holes that were almost unreadable. Almost. _She could see underneath his blackened wall he put up, screening others from seeing his vulnerabilities and fears. But she could see them, could see that he was the same man he was when she was a child. Arching her body towards him, she connected their lips once again, her skin sliding on his. Gooseflesh rose on her milky skin as he lingered for a moment before sitting up to remove her boots, as well as his own, stripping them of their socks and pulled away his pants.

_"Is this really what you want?" _Riza held her arms out, inviting him into her embrace, kissing him passionately before he broke away.

_"I-"_ she stuttered,_"I want this. I want you." _The latter became a whisper as he ran his cool hands up and over her stomach, causing the gooseflesh to return. Roy's hands moved swiftly over her, reaching to her back as he tried desperately to unclasp her bra. She pushed his hands away, almost laughing that the always-confident man had shaking hands and wobbly knees. She pushed the lame fabric away from her shoulder, feeling a little embarrassment at being bare in front of her long-time friend and subordinate. But the thought fled from her when he spoke.

_"You're beautiful."_ And her cheeks flushed as he pulled her close, running his hands along her body, carefully as though she was fragile. She pulled him closer, urgency back in her movements, and she ripped away the fabric in between them, feeling the lust in her heart aflame. Her body was hot, perspiration collected on the curve of her hips, and Roy's own body was slick with sweat and salt and the aroma of him. It was overwhelming. His lips burned against her skin, lingering for a second on her breast where the curved flesh curtained her heart. Her breath caught before she pulled him up to her lips, wanting to feel him on her again. They were a tangle of flesh now, each one getting impatient for the other. Fabric littered the ground, Riza felt Roy's breath against her neck before he entered her, before the pleasure of flesh upon flesh became painful with the feeling of becoming one. His body shivered with the sharp cry she had let out, and he kept whispering apologies in her ear until she quieted him with a string of kisses that made her body tremble.

He pressed against her, beginning to move slowly. Riza bit her lip, tightening her grip around his neck, her knees turning into his lean hips. He stopped. The fear evident in his eyes. She was losing him; he was afraid to hurt her. She was fragile to him, and he knew he was holding _her._ Not just her body but the very presence of her, the woman he loved. The woman he would never think of living without. It was then it hit her, she was his most precious person, _his_ life, as much as he was hers. She pulled him back, a kiss reassuring him. And he was. She held him taut, keeping her face buried in his shoulder, her knees felt his muscles move back and forth as he turned her pain to pleasure.

His breath was heavy in her hair when she felt the first piercing shot of ecstasy nagging at her lungs, closing off her airways, seizing her body, threatening to send her body and mind over the edge. She wanted to feel him moving against her forever, always above her, keeping her safe, keeping her warm. He was her protector, the holder of her innocence and maturity. He was always there.

She gasped again, this time her head blanked, making it impossible to think about his ribs, chaffing her breasts, or the deep, soft moans escaping him. She didn't notice her labored breathing, or her wandering hands as she tried desperately to hold on, to grip him, and she found his shoulders, bracing herself against him as she soared. His lips automatically traveled to hers like second-nature, and her body lurched beneath him.

_"I love you,"_ Roy had gasped, and Riza fell even deeper into her lust, so much farther in _love _with Roy. Because she couldn't lie to herself anymore, not now. Now that he had captured her, touched her, _made love to her. _His body was moving faster now, and she moved her own to match his pace, to keep her body aflame. His hands explored her, holding her firmly. Her body trembled, the white-hot feeling from before engulfing her entire body as her chest heaved, searching for air that couldn't be found. And Roy was in the back of her mind, the feeling of his breath burning her skin as he too felt the pleasure, and the deep grumble escaping his throat vibrated on her before they collapsed upon each other, holding the other closer than ever imagined.

His body was no longer overwhelming, no longer overbearing. No, he was comfortable now, and Riza felt her heart rate slowing, trying to beat normally, but she couldn't grasp the feeling of calm when he was beside her like this, tucking away her hair and touching her prominent collarbone ever so softly but with enough pressure to make her feel grounded. He was everything. He had always been everything. Her past, her present, her future. His dreams were _her _dreams. They always had been. Riza pulled herself onto him, leaving her head on his chest, contented to hear the pitter-patter of his heartbeat as he relaxed into her.

_"Riza…"_ He had whispered to her in their silence. She moved so that her head rested on the pillow next to him, letting his black eyes search her carmine ones.

_"Roy..."_ She smiled gently, her short fingernails raking back his unkempt hair before she gave him a peck. She felt her eyes slowly closing, struggling to keep her eyes open to watch his own eyes closing.


	7. Sloth

;-; I'm crying right now(not literally but inside haha). I don't want this story to be over! I seriously loved writing this and it was awesome to see all the love and reviews and I really really appreciate everyone who followers this until the very end. Geez there's so much I could say right here, but I won't because ill just become an even bigger blubbering idiot...so I hope you've enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I would also like to inform you about another Royi story I'll be writing eighth the 100 prompts thingy. So yeah that'll be up soon. Gaaaah I'll stop rambling now and let you read!

Love your's truly,

twinkeypop21

He woke, his face against her neck, and the window darkened with night. Their bodies were bare upon each other, and he had almost forgotten their intimacy the night before. His face colored; it was not the fist time he had shared a night with a woman, but this was different. This was Riza. It was his first time laying with a woman he had truly loved, cherished. And that was an understatement, she was his everything.

Her body was warm, and he shivered when the heavy sheets fell from his shoulders as he pushed away from her. He regretted it. She was molded to him, as though their bodies were always meant to lie next to each other. As though God, if there was a God, had created her for him and him for her. And it was a miracle that she loved him.

She stirred, Roy assumed because of the absence of heat, and hoped it was because somehow she sensed an absence of him. Stretching over her, he plucked the silver pocket watch from off the nightstand and flicked it open. It was a little over three in the morning, and he inwardly cursed, knowing he only had two and a half hours at best to stay by her side. Riza shifted, turning her back to him. His fingers moved on their own accord, pressing against the terrible scar he burnt into her, and down over the thick lines that covered her back. They were not ugly to him. They couldn't be ugly to him. Otherwise he would have agreed it made her ruined, but there was not a single thought in his mind that she was anything less than perfection. No, it was this scar that had damaged her. It was he who made her less than the perfection she could have been.

She was his shadow. The strength behind his actions, and the promise of protection if and when he took over this nation. Many who knew the two would think that she was his support, and in a way they were right; she was the single source of his power and strength, always there to keep him together...but she was also his weakness- her loss would certainly come to his greatest downfall. And he knew he would gladly die before living without her. He shivered, his fingers traveling over her back before pausing on the small mole that separated her shoulders to her neck.

Roy almost flinched when she caught his hand, turning to far him. There was no embarrassment in her eyes, no shame in what she saw before her. But it was something much different, something that scared Roy. The look that she too would sacrifice everything. Brushing her hair behind her delicate face he studied her carmine eyes before swooping down to kiss her lightly. A brush of skin on skin and she had hooked her fingers in his hair, holding him to her, and he pressing her closer to him. This warmth was enough, enough to make him want to lie with her for the rest of his life. To never rise so as to not have to leave her. Because she was not his any longer. She was Bradley's.

Cold hands collided with hot skin, causing Roy to shudder. Riza had pressed her graceful fingers to his own burn, the burn that saved his life, that saved hers as well.

"We're both marked." She said, hovering over him, her chest and stomach pressed against his own chest and stomach. Her hair fell around Roy's face, curtaining their faces like a sunlit haze.

"You saved us both." She whispered before lowering her lips to his again. And he took her face in his hands as their teeth clashed in their passion. Her fingers left tingling trails where she touched his neck and jaw and chest.

"I hurt you," he whispered to her- her arms wrapped around his neck, and her eyes closed.

"Never." Riza pressed herself farther into his chest, the feeling almost overbearing, but perfect nonetheless.

"Never," she whispered once more before breathing deeply. Roy's fingers traced circles on her lower back, slowly working their way up to meet her hay-blonde hair.

"I love you," and her words made his heart skip a beat before he smiled to himself.

"I love you, too." He let himself soak in her presence as his own eyes closed again. Two hours would never be enough, not even on the days she was beside him. Not even on the days he knew he would hurt her. The days it hurt to look at her because it was she who would hurt him. He was sure of it. Sure that through all their pain, hardship and pent up feelings, she was the one he was meant to lie with; to die with. And letting his body go slack, he couldn't think of any other way of spending his life.

_ Maybe when I'm führer I'll be worthy enough to we'd this beautiful woman, _and he couldn't help the smile on his face as he fell deeply into the sweet smell of lavender and Riza, letting those two hours take him back to sleep.


End file.
